Streamline
by Thanatos Bialy
Summary: After Battle City, Marik and Bakura challenge Seto Kaiba to a duel. The catch is, if they win Kaiba has to pay up Two Million dollars. Loaded with Two Million in their pockets and eager to travel, they take a trip to Marik's homeland, Egypt. After a night of particularly heavy partying, the two discover things they had previously ignored. Contains mostly fluff. Thiefshipping.
1. Welcome Home

_A/N: I really had no idea what was going on when I started writing this. I really didn't. I was just thinking, oh, you know. I like to write. I slightly obsess over Thiefshipping. I'm going to go write a fanfic! And, Oh No, not a regularly written fanfic with proper formatting and stuff. Never, because I'm a hipster like that, so I have to go make my life harder and write in a format I've never used before. Ah well. I hope you like it. I'm probably going to make this a two-shot, now. I was going to make it a one-shot, but I'm lazy (how that makes sense in my head, I do not know), so yeah. Fangirl on, you crazy Thiefshippers! I'll be here to support you all the way down the path of obsession._

_Also, a shout out to my lovely beta, the amazing and wonderful **Pax Moony**! If you're into Adventure Time fics (yep, I'm advertising), go read her stuff. Fo' rizzle._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. I really don't. I wish I did, but as life has it, I don't. If the owners would be willing to sell Marik and Bakura to me, though, I have a really nice stone collection and some cats I can bargain with..?_

* * *

**Monday, 2: 00 P.M**

Seto Kaiba, Marik Ishtar and Bakura all stand is the same room as the Thief draws one last card that will determine the result of the game. A cheer erupts from the blonde as the card is thrown down with a smirk, and the Brunette, in an odd display begins to yell obscenities at the duo. A few minutes later they are ushered out of the arena by a mob of guards as a check is chucked at them by a very, very angry Kaiba.

Marik's intense violet gaze narrows in on the slip of paper as the duet stands outside the large corporate building.

"Two Million dollars," the blonde finally breathes.

* * *

**Three Weeks Later…**

**Thursday, 9:00 P.M**

Two very drunk men stumble into a penthouse that overlooks Egypt. One with blonde hair (very drunk, his first time ever to have been inebriated) clings to another with wild white hair (somewhat drunk, as he has had much time to build up a rather impressive resistance to alcohol). The thief manages to dislocate the Tombkeeper from himself, and collapses on the plush couch with a groan.

With a surprising burst of stamina, Marik launches himself back at him, whispering in the others ear with a singsong voice.

"Bakura…"

"What."

He watches as the blonde lazily slaps a hand onto his head, too exhausted himself to move it.

"Fluffy," he finally comments, tugging on a thicket of white, unruly hair.

With this Bakura sits up and yanks off the intruding hand, turning to the drunk blonde with a level glare. "Excuse me?"

"Fluffy! Like a cat." He pauses for a moment. "That's it! You can be my pet, Fluffy!"

Bakura hisses at him. "I am not a bloody pet, Marik."

"Yes you are. You hiss. Cats do that. Lot's of people have cats for pets." He makes a wobbly move to stand and points a shaky finger in Bakura's general direction. "I, Marik Ishtar, now pronounce you to officially be my pet."

Bakura leaps up, throws him down onto the couch before taking stand before him. "I am _not_ a bloody _cat_, and I am _not_ your bloody _pet_." He growls at him.

"Oh, come on, Fluffy," Marik is giggling now, grasping the black blazer the thief had put on earlier in an effort to pull him back down the couch.

'Fluffy' sighs, giving up and returning to his half-full bottle, letting himself be pulled back on the couch next to the drunken Egyptian before taking a long, drawn-out swig.

* * *

**That Night…**

**Thursday, 10:01 P.M**

They laugh. A big, hearty, tiring laughter that shakes their shoulders and hurts their mouths after a while. As they stagger later onto the veranda looking out over the lit city. They didn't plan to stay this long, here in Egypt, but after Marik had taken more than enough time reacquainting with his sister and stepbrother, they had had less time for sightseeing and mischief. They therefore had extended their stay.

Thinking back on this, Marik sighs, extending a wobbling hand in the direction of his lovely desert.

"Ba-ku-ra, let's stay here together," he finally says in his sloppy, drunken speech, leaning his head gently on his fluffy white-haired companion's shoulder.

Bakura, still very drunk, has managed to keep a firm hold on his motor controls and speech. He turns to the blonde, eyebrow lifted quizzically. "That seems rather silly."

"Well…" (Pause) "I don't care where we go," Marik confesses, yawning and rubbing his eyes like that of a child. "I just want us to be like this always – happy."

Bakura's usual hostility and indifference drains (most likely a result of the alcohol) and Bakura smiles at this; a genuine, eye crinkling, gentle smile. The smile still looks threatening and dark on his face, but Marik can very well tell the difference by now. The thief gently knocks his head into the one on his shoulder before lifting a hand to ruffle the blonde's now messy hair.

"Fine, Ishtar, just you and I."

And with that statement, the thief's grip in Marik's hair causes his head to turn, and Marik experiences something new: His first kiss.

* * *

**The Next Morning…**

**Friday, 1:33 A.M**

Many more kisses are shared that night. Later, they walk (stumble) off to their perspective rooms, only to have Bakura stagger into a tired blonde's room, eyes hungry. As he pounces on the willing Tombkeeper with surprising coordination, the two fumble around, meaning to do something/anything in this magical time period before reality sets back in. In the end, they do not have the energy and they drift asleep, bodies twisted and tangled into an assortment of sloppy angles and half-removed clothes.

* * *

**4:17 A.M**

Marik does not snore, Bakura finds out when he wakes a few hours later, slightly unnerved by his lack of a hangover. The blonde sighs and mewls in his sleep, but he does not snore. As the thief watches over him, he begins to soften, begins to think that it's actually quite _cute. _He has thought this for a while, of course, but he has little hopes for a relationship with him.

Then, as if with an odd twist, he remembers the night before with the odd embraces and the very informal contact. He has to remind that this simply probably occurred from the excessive drinking, and with a sigh, moves himself off of the bed lightly as to not wake Marik, although the blonde throws his arm over to Bakura's side of the bed and with a few moments of awkward fumbling in his sleep, his arms stills, facial expression becoming very troubled. He has not awoken, although his aura seems to be distressed. Finally, he gropes the empty sheets one more time before letting out a soft disgruntled yowl. The sound is so wretchedly lonely, that Bakura curses the consequences and takes the hand, moving back onto the bed.

As the Tombkeeper seems to find this heat, his face becomes peaceful once more and he wriggles back into willing arms. There would be no harm in enjoying this, the thief thinks. After all, he can just blame this on the alcohol.

* * *

**9: 52 A.M**

The thief groans and mutters a few choice curses as a swath of light bathes his face in morning sun. The rude awakening is not welcomed, and he gropes the sheets for the blanket, pulling it over his head in a rather uncoordinated jerk.

As soon as he finally begins to drift back to sleep, he hears a pained moan from another room followed by a thunk that lands too close for his comfort. As he feels the blanket he has just recently procured ripped slightly to the side, he finally sighs and pops an eye open.

He's delighted to find that, first of all, the blinds and curtains that were previously opened are now pulled tightly shut once again. There's another moan to his right and he focuses on Marik, who is undoubtedly experiencing the joys of a hangover. He has his blonde bangs pushed to the side, a roughly prepared Ice-bag strewn across the span of his forehead. His eyes are squeezed shut, and face wrinkled into an expression of both disgust and pain.

"Bakura, move _over_." The exhausted voice is attached to the tan leg trying to weakly nudge the albino.

He complies with a grunt, shuffling slightly over to the side of the bed. "Headache?"

Marik nods slowly, afraid to make any sudden moves.

The blonde takes a moment before opening an eye slightly to look at Bakura. "Do you have one too?"

Bakura chuckles and shakes his white mane. "No, I outgrew those many millennia ago." He props himself up on his elbows. "So I suppose we aren't going to make that Itinerary you made?"

"O-Our plans! I worked so hard to schedule all of that!"

Red eyes glint mischievously at the thought of the museum they had planned to go to. He had felt challenged by the modern security of their 'cameras' and 'video-systems.' Of course, now he would probably have to stay here and tend to the grouchy blonde…

"Well, if you're that upset…" Bakura throws the covers off of himself, preparing to stand up. "I may take it upon myself to use it, since you went through all the work, of course. Too bad you couldn't come…"

"No, Bakura, wait!" Marik shrieks urgently, and then winces at the sound of his own harsh voice grating against sensitive ears.

The thief's arms come up, stretching and curling sore muscles. "…Yes?"

"Could you stay here, please?" He asks desperately, not wanting to be left on his own for more reasons than one. Bakura almost misses the blush that becomes red-hot on his cheeks as he turns and buries his face into the fancy mattress.

Bakura grins, and finishes stretching. With a gentle movement, he's lying back on top of the covers, arms behind his head. "I didn't feel like going out today, anyways."

* * *

**12:00 P.M **

At precisely noon, Bakura wakes Marik back up holding a salad with Pomegranate Vinaigrette and a large cup of water. Not long after he had agreed to stay with Marik, the blonde had promptly passed out, becoming one with the dead. He hadn't stirred in his sleep this time, which had alarmed the Thief at first, if it hadn't been for the steady rising and falling of his chest.

After allowing the blonde to sleep, he had gone into the other parts of the hotel Penthouse, realizing fairly quickly that it was utterly trashed with Liquor bottles and a number of other things too inappropriate to mention, even for the Great Bakura, himself.

He had called room service, as while he did not have a hangover, he was exhausted, and not well rested, as a true Thief never really sleeps. They only seem as though they are. Right then, the state of the living room area was giving him a headache, and only after the squad of maids he had requested arrived and he had watched them meticulously pick up every single piece of trash that could be seen out of sight, did he send them off, and attend to Marik.

Bakura helped the blonde sit up before hastily shoving the bowl on his lap, and setting the water on his nightstand. "Eat."

Marik moans pitifully. "I don't think I can."

"How unfortunate for you." He stabs a few stalks of lettuce with the fork and holds it up. "Eat it."

* * *

**1:30 P.M**

Marik is awake, and sitting on the couch across from Bakura, the TV on mute, watching something about Ponies. He watches as a purple pony named Twilight sends a letter to her teacher or something and the show ends. Another episode starts after a string of awkward commercials and advertising. His headache is not much more than a dull thud now and the constant stream of water Bakura had pushed down his throat has seems to have helped.

The blonde is rather curious.

While his memories of last night are far from perfect, there are a few… instances that are sticking in his mind, and he can't help but wonder if they were real or simply delusions from his drunken brain. He watches the white-haired thief absentmindedly shuffle his limbs in an effort to achieve comfort and another flash crosses his mind and he blushes, burying his face in his hands.

The thief observes the action, and believing the hangover to blame, languidly pushes himself from his indent on the couch. "I'll get more Tylenol." He grumbles and scratches the fluff of white hair.

"No, that's alright…" Marik mumbles. The burn in his cheeks is gone, so he lifts his head up and glues his eyes to the screen, intent on ignoring Bakura no matter what it takes. Despite the distraction on the screen, his mind wanders back to the scenes in his head over and over. He hardly notices Bakura as he stretches again and flails himself back onto the indent he had previously occupied.

Another first happens as he watches the green dragon, Spike admit his love for the white and purple pony, Rarity with a comical display of pink cartoon hearts.

Marik realizes that he has a crush.

* * *

**3:04 P.M**

Bakura is surprised when Marik speaks. For the past two hours he has watched the blonde as he flipped through channels, eventually coming to rest on a children's cartoon. Or rather, not, as throughout the marathon every single character in the show seems to go insane at one point. Some show about Ponies.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" He asks. As soon as the words are out, Marik clutches his forehead and winces.

"Perhaps I do," the Thief mumbles. His mouth threatens to twitch up into a grin, but he forces his face to remain impassive and bored.

Marik's voice catches in his throat and it takes him a moment. "Oh."

Bakura's voice grows low and husky as he spies the redness on Marik's face and realizes it isn't from a headache. "Would you like to know what it is we did?" He leans forwards slightly. He's still on the other side of the couch, but that doesn't seem to matter to Marik, who sees the advancement much in the way of a rear-view mirror. With that, he pops off the couch and scurries away towards the direction of the bathroom, muttering about a feeling of sickness. Bakura leans back into his spot with a chuckle, thinking that perhaps he wasn't the only one who remembers last night's activities.

As he thinks, he recognizes that he could fun with this…

* * *

**6:30 P.M**

Bakura had decided that he was in fact in need of a shower, so he had washed himself quite thoroughly, and had brushed his hair, an arduous task he much preferred to leave to his landlord. He wouldn't have him coming out tonight, though. He'd had much more important tasks on his mind at the moment.

Well groomed and fresh, he leaves the steaming bathroom in his towel. Something he didn't usually do, but when he was teasing a certain Egyptian, it called for such measures. Strolling out into the living room area, where Malik had last been, he kept a hand on the towel folded at his waist, and strolled to the small kitchen-like area and found a bottle of unopened wine. Popping the top, he pours it into a glass and cautiously tastes it. White Wine. It was a bit too fruity for his tastes, but it would have to do. Pouring another glass, he heads over to the couch were Marik lays undisturbed.

He kicks the Blonde, and Marik moves on instinct. When he opens his eyes, though, it becomes something rather out of a dream. Bakura is hovering over him, offering a glass of white golden liquid, hair dripping, and from what he can see (as he can't see the towel yet) virtually naked.

"Bakura, what are you doing!" Marik's voice comes out as a shriek, sounding shrill and nervous. "Go get some clothes on! Seriously, what if someone sees you like… Like…."

The thief swirls the glass of wine, leaning in closer, and eyebrow twitched up in mock-confusion. "Like what, Tombkeeper?"

"Are you drunk?" he finally asks, face burning.

Bakura grins wryly. "No, not yet."

At this point, Bakura is leaning in closely. As closely as he can get without, in all actuality, kissing the boy. After a moment of awkward silence, as Marik wriggles away uncomfortably, convinced this is just another one of his games, Bakura leans back and downs his glass before placing it on the table. He shrugs.

"I just thought we could have a toast."

"A toast to what?" Marik asks, and takes a tentative sip of his own glass. He isn't very keen on experiencing another hangover.

The thief stretches and in another deft movement is over to Marik again, lips at his ear. He nibbles for a moment. "Losing your virginity, of course."

Bakura knows this statement isn't true. He remembers something similar to that happening, but he also knows that they passed out before the chance presented ever had the ability to be explored. Still, he wanted to see the reaction this elicited from the other, and so the lie had been born.

"M…" the blonde is stunned. "My virginity… You're sure?"

It's a good start, Bakura thinks, and nips at his jaw. "You have some very… odd kinks, Ishtar." He murmurs against the others skin. "I like it."

The Tombkeeper's eyes narrow. "How am I supposed to know you aren't lying to me?"

The mouth that had just been at Marik's neck pulls up, and the owner of that mouth looks rather irritated at him while stroking the red wilt at the other one's neck that will no doubt become bruised later. Bakura lifts an eyebrow. "You certainly don't seem to be trying to push me off, hmm?"

At that realization, the struggle begins, and after a few moments of wrestling, which stops after Bakura makes a rather sexual innuendo to the position they find themselves in later, Marik escapes. Instead of leaving for one of the bedrooms, as Bakura had hoped, the flustered, blushing teen makes his escape out the door after grabbing a light jacket and his wallet. Bakura watches but makes no attempt to stop him. In all, Marik's reaction couldn't have been better.

He'll be back.

* * *

A/N: This is the first time in a long while that I've posted anything. Anywhere. I went on a sort of Hippie-realization time and my use of internet and technology in general faltered dramatically. So, tell me how good I did. Or perhaps how bad I did, too. I live off of constructive criticism! Makes my world go 'round. Either way, feed the review monster please. It gets ever-so hungry. Besides, if I get good feedback here I may just stretch my brain far enough to do an actual story -insert over-dramatic cheering-. I already have a thought for a sort of one-shot series. Which may or may not contain some Bronzeshipping. I really can't help myself x3 The pairing is so wrong and completely de-lish-ush.

I blame my love for this show on Little Kuriboh. The Abridged Series got me undeniably hooked. Anyways, my dears...

I hope you enjoyed!

With much love,

_Thanatos Bialy_


	2. All The Same

A/N: I don't know if this is just me, but I feel really unsatisfied with this ending. I just wanted to get it up, so I wrote the first ending that came to mind. Yeah. It just feels, I don't know, stereotypical? Oh well! I don't like this much, but I hope you like it better than I do. The reason for this is probably because I have so many ideas in my brain right now, it's killing me. I've ideas for an Apocalypse fic, a Zombie fic, and a good ol' Batman fic, because really, who doesn't love Batman? I wanted to do something involving Vampires, but Twilight kind of ruined that whole genre for me…

Stupid brain is stupid. Sigh.

Another shout-out to Pax Moony! She's a great Beta, and a great writer, and just a great person in general. (Insert advertisement here explaining just how grand her Adventure Time fic is…)

Disclaimer: I wish I could say I owned Yu-Gi-Oh. You know how great that would be? Yeah, pretty great. But I don't, so leave me alone, unless you like rock collections and a bunch of nasty-looking Pennies that are too greenish and rusty to be considered money…

* * *

**The Next Morning**

**Saturday, 5:55 A.M**

Or perhaps he won't be back.

Marik hasn't appeared, and as dawn approaches, the Thief has grown tired of waiting for him to emerge.

A stream of Coral-Pink and gold filters in through the balcony window, an onset of the rising sun. A yawn bubbles up from tired lips and Bakura relents. If he's waited this long for Marik to come back, chances are, he realizes, the younger boy probably won't be back within the next few hours. At that, the thief rises for a moment to toss another empty bottle into the nearby trash, and descends back onto the couch. The move to his bedroom is decidedly too much of an effort to make. His mind drifts, and before he's aware of the change Bakura falls into a light, uncomfortable sleep.

After all, Marik would be back any moment… Right?

* * *

**7:00 A.M**

A call to Bakura's cell phone startles him awake. After a moment of awkward fumbling with the metal and plastic device, he answers. He grumbles and prepares to speak, but it isn't necessary.

"Bakura," the voice whines like that of a dog. Marik's voice carries a lilt that the tomb thief recognizes as a mix of anger, confusion, and distress. "Fluffy, you know what you are? A-a… a Poop-face! That's right!"

The thief almost chokes out a sound of indignation (partly at the lack of creative effort put into the name-calling, and partly at the shock of the rude awakening), but the noise he hears from the other side of the line commands his attention again.

"'Kura, I forgot my key…" There's a knock on the door, and a pause followed by a rather strangled choking sound. "Will you please let me in? 'Kura?"

* * *

**11:23 A.M**

It takes 4 hours and 23 minutes for Marik to finally say what has been on his mind since the moment he arrived. This is something that surprises him, as he has always been rather shameless about what he thinks, and almost never feels nervous about anything he has to say for himself. This, he supposes, is quite different, though. He's never really experienced an attraction before, much less to another man.

He sets down the spoon he'd been using back into his-nearly empty-yogurt cup and looks up from across the table to Bakura. The blonde makes one more move to swallow his pride and anxiousness before calmly placing his hands on the table.

"We need to talk."

"Do we, now?"

"About the, err… night before, yes."

(A chuckle from the Albino, followed by a nervous glance from the other male).

"Seriously, Bakura," Marik whines and spoons another glob of Key Lime flavored Yoplait into his mouth.

"What is there to talk about?" Bakura's voice becomes suave and silver-tongued, and he quirks an eyebrow. "We only kissed for a few hours. The sex didn't happen, though, if that's what you're so bloody worried about."

"You – You lied to me?"

The thief gives him a toothy grin. "Yes. You going to punish me, Ishtar?"

"I can't believe you… I..! Damnit!"

* * *

**2: 14 P.M**

"I don't see why you're so hurt over it," Bakura snorts indignantly at the blonde. "You liked it."

"Of course I liked it! I was drunk!" Marik only curls tighter into the pillow he's clutching, a mixture of apprehension and desire filling his chest. It wasn't just when he was drunk. The thought of it now still gave him shivers. Marik had always felt something towards the thief. Of course, now that he understands what it is, exactly, he wants to return to the days of blissful ignorance. After all, Bakura has been treating this much too lightly. Last night, when he had been over him… No. It had all been a game, he decides. No normal person would take a situation like this so lightly.

At the thought of the previous night, his hand instinctually jerks to his neck where he does, indeed, have a bruise. The blood has clotted to the surface of his skin in the shape of a haphazard oval.

"I was going to offer to continue where we had left off, but if the experience was that uncomfortable, I won't bloody bother you again." The white-haired man leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him firmly. While he has managed to keep himself mostly composed, his agitation drifts to the surface as he leaves the room. He kicks over the first thing he finds on the floor, not bothering to look at what it may have been.

The Tombkeeper makes no move to stop him.

* * *

**7:27 P.M**

Marik finally works up the guts to trudge over to the other side of the suite. He doesn't know how he will do it, but he will. It's all just abour admitting these feelings, yes? There is nothing too difficult about that, except for the irrational fear of rejection that is culminating in the pit of his stomach. He is convinced it will consume him whole before he can make it over to that room, but the walk takes far less time than he was initially convinced it would have taken.

What if he's rejected?

What if Bakura really had been playing with him last night? What about the night before that?

Well…

He would've done that regardless, Marik relents.

The real question is if Bakura had been doing it for the reasons Marik now wishes he had been.

The walk is too short for him, and as the blonde finds himself standing at the door, hand paused slightly above the handle, he freezes.

* * *

**7:35 P.M**

The Tombkeeper spends 8 minutes in front of the door, not quite debating whether or not he should go in as much as whether or not he'll have the ability to say what he wants to say. He becomes so lost in thought that he misses the soft padding of feet on carpet. Even as the sound, however quiet, becomes easier to distinguish coming closer to the door, he stands still.

The door swings open, and Marik finally looks up on the realization that Bakura is standing at the other side of the doorway, his face questioning. The thief coughs into his fist, and the Tombkeeper moves back to allow him passage to the rest of the rooms.

"I'd like to apologize."

Bakura snorts at this, but pauses before he speaks. For a moment, the blonde thinks that he'll admit that he has something to apologize for too, but nothing quite so intelligent comes out. "For being an ass? Yeah, go for it."

Marik points a stubborn finger in the thief's direction as he walks up to him. He shoves his finger into Bakura's chest as he speaks. "For me being an ass? You do realize that you're the one who lied! My actions are completely justified. If anyone should really be apologizing, it's you, you know."

The albino catches his hand for a moment and inspects it before it's pulled back. "You enjoyed it, so I don't have anything to apologize for, either."

"And how would you know if I liked it or not?"

The challenge hangs in the air for a moment. Marik can almost see Bakura's white hair bristle as he explores the options of the situation, turns over actions and consequences in his mind. He, himself is only vaguely aware of what he's instigated, although he desperately wishes Bakura would simply do something already. The both of them know that it's the only way for anything to be resolved. They're both to stubborn otherwise, and their words could continue endlessly in an attempt to win something. The only way to really make it stop is to take action.

And so act, Bakura does.

* * *

**8:48 P.M**

With one last kiss, Bakura pulls off and heaves himself to the other side of the bed. He's smirking in success, but Marik can't see that. The stunned blonde is too busy staring at the ceiling, his face becoming the same mixture of apprehension and desire it held earlier. The only difference is that now it also held a sort of smug satisfaction, and as Bakura thinks back on the activities on the last few hours, both of them were winners, he supposed.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Marik turns to his partner with a pout. He shakes the thief's shoulder in an attempt to get his attention, and it works, as the white-haired man turns to face him.

He stretches and throws Marik a lazy smile. "Didn't get enough the first time?"

The answer is no.

* * *

**4:15 P.M**

An hour before, the duo had stopped once more to Marik's sibling's houses to say goodbye to them, and collect them as they headed off to the Airport. After the night before, the two had decided that it was time to leave Egypt. The place now carried a range of very happy memories, and… Not so happy ones, but despite their inability to visit all of the places they had wanted, they were leaving Egypt very satisfied with their visit.

As they ready to leave the airport and board the plane to their First-Class cabin, they share a quick kiss, which Isis catches when watching the two. Of course, as she does not have a ticket, her ability to either congratulate or reprimand the two is hindered and Marik knows he will be receiving a call sometime soon when he gets off the plane once more.

As the rest of the plane is boarded and all of the passengers seated, the two flag down the first flight attendant they see and order two glasses of red wine. When the attendant tells them that they can choose from a selection, the two look at the list for a brief moment. Telling her to bring them a bottle of the most expensive Wine they possess, the two wait. After all, today is a day to celebrate.

As she brings the bottle to them and pours the glasses, the two share another kiss.

"Congratulations, Marik." Bakura starts. "For both getting to have sex with me," (Marik scoffs, as he knows now that he wouldn't have had to try hard in the first place). "And for us."

He rolls his eyes, but the pair laughs merrily. The sound comes out somewhat naturally to Marik, but there are a few horrified stares at the half-possessed cackle that Bakura releases. He has never been skilled at being happy for good reasons.

The two raise their glasses and as they clink together, Marik concedes to agree with him.

"Cheers!"

* * *

A/N: I hate to say it, but I'm so glad that's over with…. I guess I got bored with it, or the inability to leave it alone finally got to me. I had to get this posted right away.

Like I said earlier, stupid brain is stupid.

I'm kind of surprised regardless; I managed to pump this baby out despite how unused I am to this genre. Compared to my regular type of writing, this was relatively happy. My usual is more of the horror type. I mean, really. I have a fascination with the life-death, yin-yang panorama, and I suppose I have a good reason for that, too, but really. I actually got bored of fluff! What has this world come to?! Sigh…

I hope you're way more satisfied with this than I was. If you have any ideas to improve this so it isn't so… Cheesy… hit me up with a review or PM. Really.

With some of my heart,

Thanny Bialy


End file.
